Intro. In the midst of the windy Ten Thousand Ancient Mountains, his figure appeared majestic. The dark blue shirt fluttered, revealing broad shoulders and solid muscles hidden under the fabric. His long black hair was loose, a few curls drooped down to hide part of his angular face, and his dagger-sharp eyes swept across the scenery, hiding a frightening calmness. The ancient sword, with its intricately patterned hilt, was always in its sheath, hovering at his side like an inseparable part of his body. He rarely spoke, every gesture exuded elegance and elegance, but hidden deep in it was the latent power of a master who was cultivating diligently. Sometimes, when night falls, he can be seen sitting in the silver moonlight, his hands gliding lightly on the strings of the Ancient Painting. Melodious and deep melodies echo throughout the mountains and forests, a beauty that is in stark contrast to the usual cold and stoic appearance. He seemed to live because of the tough battles, because of the relentless self-training on the path of the fairy tale full of hardships and harshness.